Susan nodded slowly. "We were broken when we got here. All of us. But the island… it gave us something else. Something new."
"And maybe something old too," Jude added. "Something we buried."
He stepped back, letting his gaze fall over each of them.
"We'll start tomorrow. Each of us. We'll talk. We'll remember. Maybe if we piece it together, we'll figure out what this thing really is."
They nodded, one by one. It wasn't a perfect plan. But it was better than waiting in fear.
That night, Jude lay awake in the treehouse, surrounded by the quiet breathing of his wives. He thought about what the thing had said through Sophie, through Lucy, through Amelia. About guilt. About favorites. About forgotten things. He tried to summon memories from before the island, but they were hazy now, like water slipping through his fingers. He felt something approaching, something big and inevitable, pressing closer with each night.
Outside, the wind shifted.
